Lack of Direction
by Odekake
Summary: Robin is not the hero the Ylisseans have hoped for, nor the destroyer the Plegians have prayed for. He has no purpose in his life, only a desire to be alone. But his meeting with Chrom will forever alter the path of destiny and the future, for better or for worse … whether he likes it or not.


A/N: This story is my retelling of Fire Emblem: Awakening. Expect departures from the game's original plot, expanded or modified characterizations, and backstory that does not quite follow Awakening's established background information faithfully.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Awakening or anything you may recognize.

*!*

Chapter 1

Robin had always known that he lacked a certain sense of direction, so he wasn't too surprised when he awoke in the middle of a field with no idea as to where he was. He did, however, find it of some concern that he could not recall anything else about himself or in general.

"Where am I, exactly?" Robin asked as he took in his surroundings. Tall blades of grass stretched as far as the eye could see, extending to the green hills in the distance. Flowers in bloom and trees with full foliage populated the meadow sparsely. It was a picturesque sight, but none of it helpful in discerning his location.

The girl standing in front of him gasped, her blonde pigtails bobbing as she staggered back. "What? You don't know?" She turned to the blue-haired man at her side and said to him in a loud whisper, "Chrom, do you think it could be amnesia?"

A derisive scoff from behind them brought everyone's attentions to the knight at the rear. He rode an armored warhorse and wore a deep scowl on his face. "Do not be deceived, milady. His clothes bear the mark of the Grimleal. He must be a Plegian spy."

"Excuse me?" Robin demanded. "Just what is your problem? I don't know what you're even talking about."

"Lies befitting that of a Plegian. Do not think you have me fooled," the man retorted, reaching for the sword sheathed at his side.

"Frederick, please." Chrom glanced over his shoulder with a disapproving look, which was enough for the knight to stand down. "Still …" Warily eyeing the purple designs that decorated Robin's cloak, he said, "Only those associated with the Grimleal cult wear those patterns. If you are not one of them, then why do you wear their colors?"

"I …" Robin pressed his right palm against his forehead and closed his eyes, trying to come up with something. A sense of dread washed over him when he realized that there was nothing to remember; his memory was but a void. "I don't know what the Grimleal are or why I'm apparently dressed like one. Look … why are you bothering me about this anyway? I haven't done anything wrong."

"A very likely story," Frederick retorted. "Milord, this man is surely up to no good," he said to the blue-haired man.

"Chrom, what if he's telling the truth?" the girl asked, tugging on the lord's sleeve. "We can't just assume he's lying. What kind of Shepherds would we be?"

"I know, Lissa," Chrom said before turning to Robin with a polite but guarded smile. "I'd like nothing more than to believe your story, but it is a strange one. Walk with us. There's a town not too far ahead from here. We'll sort this out and make sure you're no enemy of Ylisse."

Robin narrowed his eyes in a glare. "No." He could scarcely believe the nerve of these strangers, to impose themselves on his business and then order him around as if he were somehow at fault.

"That was not a request," Frederick said, grabbing him by the upper arm. "Now come."

"Get off!" Robin pulled his arm out of Frederick's grip – an impressive feat given the other's greater physical strength and how tight his hold had been. A strange feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach, nearly triggering an anxiety attack. For the first time he noticed just how close the lord, the girl, and the knight were standing. It made him feel uncomfortable – almost claustrophobic. "I will come quietly as long as you do not touch me," Robin said, giving Chrom the dirtiest look he could manage.

"Peace, friend." Chrom held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I promise we'll hear all you have to say at the town."

~o~

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as they walked, but Robin didn't mind at all. He found that he rather liked the calm; it was easier to think without other people blabbering away and disrupting his thoughts. However, much to his frustration, he had yet to recall any details of his life – both past and purpose were nonexistent, and his reasons for being wherever he was unknown even to him. Trying to force information out of his brain had only given him a terrible headache and Robin had quickly abandoned that endeavor.

Words spoken in a hushed but audible undertone drew his attention to the pair walking in front of him. Chrom and Lissa reddened at having been caught sneaking glances at their new companion and quickly faced the path ahead. Robin was annoyed at being the likely topic of their conversation, but it was better than Frederick trying to burn a hole in the back of his head with his stare. The four continued their awkward march, accompanied only by the sound of their footwear scuffling against the ground.

It wasn't long before Chrom decided that he could no longer handle the tension. "Look," he said, turning to face Robin, "I know you're upset with us, but we do have our reasons. There's … a situation going on in Ylisse right now. We cannot afford to let our guard down, no matter what."

Barely keeping his exasperation at being addressed in check, Robin clenched his fists and counted to ten – forcing back the apprehension he felt. "Ylisse," he repeated as evenly as he could once he felt he could speak again. "Is that where we are now?"

"You claim to have never heard of the halidom?" Frederick scoffed. "Someone pay this actor. He plays quite the fool!"

Chrom sighed and shook his head. "Frederick, please," he chided, before continuing with his explanation. "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt. I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name is Chrom." He then motioned to the girl at his side. "The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa."

"I am not delicate!" she shouted, throwing her arms in the air. "Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes," Lissa said to Robin, her tone shifting from angry to charming in the blink of an eye. "You're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would have been a rude awakening!"

The siblings stared at him expectantly, awaiting a response, but Robin had barely heard them – couldn't even look at them. Their names were not new knowledge. He'd have to be a fool to have missed them referring to one another by them earlier. His ears still rung with Frederick's mocking accusations, the obvious judgment that was present in those words. Robin could feel the redness in his cheeks; his body burning up underneath his heavy cloak; the agitated tapping of his fingers against his folded arms –

He was on the edge of a complete mental breakdown and fully aware of it.

After it became apparent that their guest was not going to reply, Chrom cleared his throat and tried to continue the conversation. "So … do you have a name?"

"It's Robin." The answer came immediately and in a stilted tone. His panic attack had yet to pass, but his name was the one thing that he was still very much aware of – a simple question to take his mind off the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment, even if for a brief moment.

"Robin," Chrom repeated, a strange expression crossing his face. "It sounds foreign for sure." When he noticed that Robin was beginning to hyperventilate, Chrom put on his best disarming smile and tried to reassure him. "Look, we're almost to town. We'll –"

Just then, Lissa let out a scream. "Chrom! Look!" she cried.

The sight of dark smoke billowing into the sky was hard to miss. A sea of trees obscured its origin, but Chrom was well aware of what lay beyond them. "The town is ablaze!" He swore. "Those blasted brigands again, no doubt … Lissa! Frederick! Quickly!"

Lissa nodded and clutched her staff tightly, but Frederick hesitated. "Milord, what about him?" he asked, with a pointed look at Robin.

Chrom followed his glance to the final member of their group, who seemed oblivious to everything around him – his eyes shut tightly and his arms crossed. Robin's breathing was elevated, the fingers of his left hand drumming against his arm. But just as Chrom was about to ask him if he were all right, an explosion sounded in the distance – making Lissa gasp – and a second plume of smoke joined the first.

"Oh no …" Lissa's voice was faint. "Chrom, let's go already!"

"Right." Chrom turned to Frederick and said, "Unless he's on fire as well, it can wait! The town and the people living there cannot."

Frederick looked like he wanted to argue, but then appeared to reassess the situation. "Aptly put, milord," he replied, bowing.

And with those words, the trio raced towards the village – their footsteps growing fainter with each passing second. But it wasn't until all was silent that Robin realized that he was alone, and at least another minute before his breathing returned to normal and he was able to relax.

They were gone. An involuntary giggle escaped his throat, a side effect of his currently strained mind. _They were gone and they'd all but forgotten about him. _For the first time since his awakening, Robin was able to breathe – was only able to comprehend just then how _claustrophobic _he had felt around them. But it no longer mattered because they had left him behind and he would never have to see them again. Robin let out a sigh of relief and headed in the direction opposite to where the others had gone.

However, it wasn't long before he was struck with an unpleasant thought: he now knew that the land he was in was called Ylisse, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He knew not what situations the country may be involved in … or even how to get out of the field. And considering Chrom and Frederick's reaction to the way he was dressed, he could've been an enemy of Ylisse. Loath as Robin was to admit it, he needed help. There was no way he would survive on his own.

Robin took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and then he began walking towards the town as fast as he could. But he didn't get far before he tripped over something and stumbled. Letting out a surprised yelp, Robin clutched his ankle and glared at the object in question – a sword made of bronze, lying on the ground as innocent as can be. He picked it up and studied it for a moment, then rose to his feet and went on his way – ignoring the pain in his ankle even as he ran.

~o~

He could smell the smoke even if he couldn't see the flames; hear the screams of terrified villagers as they fled the area. Mass chaos was the only way to describe the scene before him. Chrom rushed past the frantic crowd to the town center – no easy feat since the flow of people was in the opposite direction. Lissa and Frederick were close behind him. The church was on fire, burning brightly for all to see; the streets deserted save for the bandit horde camped around the establishment.

"This is horrible," Lissa said. Her face was twisted in a grimace and her knuckles white from gripping her staff so tightly. "We have to stop them!"

"And we will," Chrom replied, drawing his sword. "After today, these bandits won't be bothering anyone ever again."

"Be on your guard, milord," Frederick warned. "We must not underestimate our enemy."

He had barely finished his sentence when one of the ruffians – a man dressed in loose fitting robes and carrying a sword – turned to look in their direction. "Boss! We've got company!"

"Blast!" the leader of the bandits swore, a man with russet hair and red streaks painted on his cheeks. He wielded an axe and stood guard in front of the church, a location that gave him perfect view of the town square. "It's the Shepherds! Finish them off, we'll deal with the villagers later!"

The brigands raised their weapons and let out a resounding primordial roar, then charged at the trio. Having lost the element of surprise, Chrom and Frederick were forced on the defensive while Lissa did her best to stay out of harm's way. The enemy's numbers were small – less than a dozen men, including their leader – but they were fierce, unrelenting.

Frederick cut down two bandits with a single stroke of his silver lance, but soon found himself engaged in combat with the sole mage. Fireballs shot with deadly precision kept the knight at a distance, the heat and flames aggravating his steed. A corner of the blue cloth draped over his horse ignited, sending the creature into a panic. Two brigands with axes took advantage of the situations and closed in on Frederick.

Chrom was locked in combat with a myrmidon, their blades pressing against one another in an unwavering battle to gain leverage. Identical scowls filled with determination held firm, but it was the lord who was able to overpower his opponent. He parried the man's sword and followed with a swift thrust to the chest. Pausing briefly to catch his breath, Chrom slowly withdrew Falchion – trying hard not to look at the blood that covered the sacred weapon and poured onto the ground. It was not the first time he'd taken a life and it would not be the last, but he'd never be used to it.

Just then, a scream from Lissa drew his attention towards her. One of the brigands had slipped past him and Frederick – was leering down at Lissa. An axe was raised over his head, ready to strike down the defenseless girl. Lissa was backed up against a building, her trembling hands holding her staff out in front of her, eyes wide with terror and mouth agape.

"Lissa! Hold on!" Chrom shouted, all feelings of guilt at the life he had taken evaporating when he saw the danger his sister was in. He raced across the square at a speed he did not know he'd possessed and struck down the man threatening his sister – a single stab to the back was all it took. Lissa, shaken but otherwise unharmed, jumped out of the way as the man's body slumped forwards. "Are you all right, Lissa?" Chrom asked.

She nodded in response, her voice refusing to work so soon after a near-death experience, but then she let out a gasp. "Chrom!" she choked out. "Behind you!"

But her warning had come too late. By the time that Chrom would've managed to turn around, the bandit advancing from the rear would already have cleaved him in half. And yet, the sight that greeted him was not the grinning snarl of his would-be killer, but two orbs of lightning shooting past them – separating him and Lissa from the approaching brigand.

"What –" The lord immediately turned in the direction he thought the magic had come from and was surprised to see Robin standing close by, a tome in one hand and the other arm outstretched as if he had just cast a spell. Chrom immediately took note of the sword hanging from his belt, which he knew hadn't been there before. "Robin, you –"

"Don't look at me, stupid!" he snapped. "The bandit! He's right there!"

Guided by instinct, Chrom thrust his sword backwards without a second thought. He grit his teeth as the dying man he had just impaled began coughing up blood – right onto the back of his neck. Lissa squeaked and skirted around her brother, taking refuge behind Robin and hiding her face in his coat. Robin closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, anxiety rising from both Lissa's close proximity and the sight of death.

"Robin," Chrom began, breaking the tense silence that had fallen upon them. "What are you doing here? Why'd you follow us?"

"Because …" Robin paused to compose himself – to expunge from his mind the face of the dead man as the life slowly left his eyes; the blood running red in the streets no matter where he turned; the screams of men fighting to survive and kill one another. It was more than he could take. A hot surge of anger rushed through his body. "Look, I don't know who you are and I certainly don't have to like you," he growled. "But I know nothing of this land. I can't even recall details of my life or anything else before I met you in that field. So I'll play by your rules for the time being. You keep me alive, and I won't give you reason to distrust me."

Chrom was taken aback by the other's hostility, and he could feel his face growing warm – whether it was from the intensity of Robin's glare or the insolent manner in which he'd addressed him, the lord couldn't be certain. Barely suppressing the need to respond to him in kind, Chrom forced a smile on his face and said, "We can get all of that sorted out in Ylisstol later. For now, I would be thankful to have your assistance in this battle. And … thank you for saving Lissa and me earlier." His tone became sincere, albeit grudging.

With a stiff nod, Robin began charging up another thunder spell – his right hand aglow from the lightning sparks forming in his palm – as he turned his attention to a lone bandit near the bridge leading to the church. He fired the spell in the brigand's direction, wholly missing his target but drawing the man's attention. The bandit rushed towards Robin with a fierce cry, his axe raised over his head. Chrom stepped in front of Robin to intercept the blow, but then the man fell to the ground – dead, struck down from behind by Frederick's lance. Robin let out a sigh of relief and studied the battlefield. All of the bandits, save for one, had been slain. A wave of dizziness rapidly descended upon him and Robin had to close his eyes again. He couldn't look at the dead bodies of his enemies anymore. It was all too much.

"Milord, only their leader remains," Frederick said. "We must approach with caution. His position gives him an advantage, he has the entirety of this plaza within his sights."

"Right." Chrom narrowed his eyes, a deep scowl on his face. "If we cannot surprise him from the rear, then we'll have to face him head-on. Frederick! Robin! Follow my lead. We are not letting this dastard cause any more damage!"

"What should I do, Chrom?" Lissa piped up.

"You stay here, Lissa. Don't put yourself in harm's way." Chrom unsheathed Falchion from its scabbard and took off running towards the church. "Let's go!"

Frederick nodded and urged his horse into a trot, following closely behind his lord. Robin trailed after them as well – his right hand gripping his tome and his left clenching the hilt of the bronze sword he'd found earlier to steady their trembling. Then the piercing sound of metal against metal pulled him from his muddled thoughts, and he stopped his advance across the bridge. Chrom and Frederick had reached their target, and they were engaged in combat.

Robin kept a safe distance from the bandit leader as he began casting his magic, putting enough force behind the spells to hurt but not to kill. However, he found it difficult to aim from the distance he was at, made even more complicated because he was trying to avoid striking his companions as well. It only exacerbated his frustrations. His allies did not seem to have better luck either – since the brigand had the church at his back, he had no fear of being attacked from behind; nor did he have trouble fending off his attackers.

Suddenly, a lucky axe stroke caught Chrom in the stomach. He let out a shout of pain as he staggered back, one hand pressed against his wound and barely keeping his hold on his sword. Both Lissa and Frederick called out his name, and the knight immediately dove in front of his lord to shield him from a second blow. The brigand leader grinned as they fell to the ground, winded, and brought up his axe to finish them off.

His reaction was immediate, if not surprising. Robin found himself running across the bridge as he muttered the incantation for a thunder spell under his breath. But just as he had reached the other side, his ankle gave out and Robin tripped. The spell he had been casting was released prematurely, wholly missing its target, and he lost his hold on his tome. Robin pushed himself off the ground with a few swears, but then he noticed a dark shadow looming overhead. He looked up, and was paralyzed with fear when he saw the bandit leader leering down at him.

The man laughed and spoke words that Robin barely even heard in his trance. His mind was a complete blank – all his thoughts and emotions replaced with an overwhelming sense of terror that left no room for anything else. It was like staring into the face of death – and all that he _could_ do was stare.

But then the brigand lifted up his axe, and in that moment Robin regained control of his body. He drew the sword from his belt at a speed he knew that he was not capable of and held it out in front of him. Figuring that the end was near, he closed his eyes and waited for the final blow to come. Yet it never did. Several seconds went by before Robin dared to open his eyes. Was he alive, or had he been killed without realizing it?

He found himself looking right into the bandit's blank, lifeless eyes – his expression was frozen in a feral grin, and the axe he'd been brandishing lodged in the ground behind him. Robin let out a high-pitched shriek, released his grip on the hilt of the sword, and scurried backwards. With nothing else to hold it up, the man's body fell limply to the ground. The blade, which was protruding from his back, was pushed further through the body. Blood was pooling around the dead brigand, pouring out into the street. It coated the blade and hilt of Robin's sword, covered his hands –

There was blood on his hands. He had blood on his hands. _He had just killed a man. _The implications of his actions did not sink in at first; Robin was in a state of shock, his mind a complete blank. Everything that had happened since he'd woken up in that field seemed so far away, as if it had been a dream. And surely that was all it could've been, it was too surreal to have actually occurred and he couldn't have really taken someone's life –

A light tap on the shoulder brought Robin out of his trance. He turned to see Chrom and Lissa's concerned expressions – Frederick stood close behind them, the scowl never leaving his face. It was only then that the full realization of what he had done came crashing down upon him. This was no dream; he had just killed a man. In his guilt, it mattered not that he'd acted in self-defense – that he would be the one lying dead had he not raised his sword. The emotions welling up within him – the disbelief, the horror, and the remorse – were threatening to overflow, but it was as if he no longer knew how to react.

Finally, a choked sob escaped his throat and with it the dam had broken. Robin let out an anguished scream and slammed his fist against the ground, uncaring that shards of rock became embedded in his hand. Pulling the hood of his coat over his head, Robin curled up on the ground and cried.

~o~

Chrom grimly surveyed the damage that had been done to the village – there was blood and shattered glass in the streets; buildings that had been torched stretched as far as the eye could see. Yet, it could've been far worse. He'd been relieved to hear that there had been no casualties, no serious injuries. It had been a good day for the Shepherds, a truly successful mission. Chrom thanked Naga for her favor. They were not always so lucky.

He, Frederick, and Lissa had assisted the villagers in clearing the bodies and debris from the town after the battle had been won. It was hard work – and Lissa had complained all the while – but it gave Chrom a sense of accomplishment. Knowing that he'd helped to make the land even a little bit safer for his countrymen was reward enough.

"Did you notice, milord?" Frederick asked once his liege had finished speaking with the town elder. "The bandits spoke with a Plegian accent."

"I know." With an agitated sigh, Chrom ran his fingers through his hair and said, "This is troubling news, Frederick. They've never gotten this far into Ylisse before – this town is only half a day's walk from Ylisstol! Plegia is up to something. I _know_ it."

"Indeed," Frederick agreed. "We must take every precaution necessary to ensure that no Plegian gets past our guard."

_Robin_. No doubt that Frederick was referring to their newfound acquaintance. Chrom glanced over at Robin, who was standing on the bridge and looking up at the sky with a decidedly blank expression. It did not escape his notice that many of the townspeople seemed uncomfortable with Robin's presence, whispering to one another about his appearance and the sinister markings on his coat.

There was no mistaking the fact that Robin was Plegian. It was not merely his choice of attire, either; Chrom was all too aware of the minor details that made the other's heritage clear as day. Robin had a Plegian accent. It was not as thick as the bandits' had been and faint enough so that most people would've overlooked it, but it was still there.

Fair skin was usually associated with Ylisseans and most Plegians were tan. But a small fraction of Plegia's population was pale, much paler than any Ylissean – much like Robin was. And although dark hair was common throughout all lands, Robin had brown eyes that were sharp and slightly narrowed in a diagonal slant – features seen only in Plegians and the people of overseas Chon'sin. Even if he'd been their ally in the fight against the brigands, Robin was still a Plegian. His loyalties and purpose remained a mystery.

"How are you holding up, friend?" Chrom asked, joining Robin on the bridge. He was met with a withering glare. "I meant no offense," he said, taking a few steps back to give Robin some space. "I am only concerned for your well being. You … your reaction was quite extreme."

"Extreme?" Robin repeated, his hands clenching into fists and trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Do you not know what I have done?" A hint of cold fury was present in his voice.

"I'm not trying to make light of the situation," Chrom replied. "Believe me, I am all too familiar with how it feels to kill someone. It's terrible … like you're tearing your own soul to shreds." The lord paused, closing his eyes to quell the uprising of emotion. "But sometimes we have no other choice. Those bandits would've razed the town and killed everyone in their path if we hadn't stopped them. And … you would've been dead, had you not raised your sword to defend yourself. You are not at fault here, Robin."

"Ha. That's easy enough to say … but not so much to believe." Robin brushed his bangs out of his eyes, and then went back to staring at the sky. "You don't understand what it's like … to wake up in an unknown land with no recollection of anything – not even of yourself – only to end up in a situation where you have to take someone else's life to keep yours." He laughed bitterly, the noise startling nearby villagers. "My first memory of myself – and I'm stabbing someone in the chest. That's – just – wonderful."

Chrom didn't know how to respond and Robin's hysterical laughter was quickly starting to unnerve him, so he leaned back against the railing and said nothing. Several minutes went by until Robin, too, became quiet. A tense lull hung in the air, neither wishing to be the one to break the silence.

"We'll be heading back to Ylisstol soon," Chrom finally said when he noticed Frederick and Lissa approaching them. The pair appeared to be arguing, but he couldn't make out the words. "You'll come with us, won't you?"

"Do I really have a choice?" Robin's tone was acerbic, but lacked much of the venom from earlier. On the contrary, he seemed more tired than anything.

"As I explained earlier, there is much tension between Ylisse and Plegia these days. You are unmistakably a Plegian and even if you claim to have lost your memory, I must take every precaution to ensure the safety of Ylisse. If you are not a threat to us, I promise that you will be free to do as you wish."

"In other words, you're not giving me a choice." Robin sighed and tucked a loose strand of his shoulder-length black hair behind his ear. "I'm not going to fight you. There's no point in doing so, and I wouldn't win anyway."

"Frederick, you meanie!" Lissa's voice rang loudly throughout the square, interrupting any reply Chrom would've given. "Chrom!" she wailed. "Frederick won't let us stay in town for the night! And it's nearly dark!"

"When night falls, we'll camp," Frederick replied with a deceptively pleasant smile. "Eat off the land, make our bed of twigs and the like. I do not believe that it would be wise for us to tarry here, milord."

The message was clear to Chrom, even if it were lost to Lissa – Frederick did not trust Robin and he didn't want him to remain in the town overnight, around innocent people, lest he truly was an enemy. It was sound logic, and considering the villagers' discomfort at having a Plegian around – not to mention Robin's unstable state of mind – leaving appeared to be the wisest option.

"Sorry, Lissa, but I have to agree with Frederick," Chrom said. He burst into laughter when Lissa gave him a sour look. "Oh, come now, the capital isn't far. Robin, are you ready to go?"

Robin glanced over at him briefly, and then returned his gaze to the sunset. "Yeah … I guess." He checked his coat pockets to ensure that his tome was still there and pulled the hood over his head. But he lingered at the bridge for a moment longer, staring into the distance, before trailing after Chrom and the others.

*!*

A/N: This chapter alone took me around four months or so to complete, so don't expect me to update anytime soon. Also, for people who aren't certain which appearance I used for Robin, he is a build 1 avatar with face 2, hair 4, hair color 9, and voice 1.


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